Why I Left the Classroom: Choosing Families Over Comfort

When I stepped into my preschool classroom for the first time, I knew I had found my home. For years, my little room became a sanctuary — a space where children were free to play, explore, and grow, where families felt welcome, and where love and laughter echoed daily. I stayed in that classroom even when the wages were painfully low, because the joy of creating that safe, developmentally appropriate haven was worth every sacrifice.

But recently, everything changed. Our school was bought by a large company that has been quietly buying up small preschools and transforming them into high-priced, cookie-cutter “American style” child care centers. Overnight, our school culture shifted from family-first to profit-first. The classrooms became more about efficiency than connection, more about policies than people.

Then came the email. Late one night, a mass message was sent to families: their tuition fees would be increasing by 30% — with just nine days to adjust their budgets. No grace period. No conversation.

For families already juggling impossible costs, this was devastating. For me, it was a breaking point. I spend more waking hours with these children than their own parents do. I see the weight these parents carry, the sacrifices they make to give their kids a good start. To suddenly place that kind of financial burden on them — without warning, without compassion — was something I could not witness silently.

So, I made a decision.

I walked away.

I resigned sooner than I was prepared to, out of protest. It was one of the hardest and bravest choices I’ve ever made. I chose to say: No. This is not acceptable. I could not trade my financial security for the pain of watching these families suffer through impossible choices with no notice.

As an activist at heart, I know change only comes when those with the privilege and ability to speak up actually do. Walking away was my way of standing up for children and families who deserve better — better care, better communication, better respect.

And though it was heartbreaking to leave the classroom I loved, this step has catapulted me into my next chapter: Together We Bloom.

For over twenty years, I have found ways to teach — sometimes in a classroom, sometimes outside of one. What I have learned is this: the magic happens wherever the connection to families and children is genuine. Together We Bloom is my way of continuing that mission, on my own terms. It allows me to center love, curiosity, and community, to keep education developmentally appropriate, joyful, and accessible.

Leaving the classroom wasn’t the end of my teaching journey — it was a leap into a bigger one.

I am excited, grateful, and fired up to keep showing up for families in creative, meaningful ways. Together, we can make sure childhood stays sacred, learning stays joyful, and families stay supported.